


You're Not The Man You Think You Are

by Velocity_Owl87



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cat/Human Hybrids, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Human Experimentation, Introspection, Kidnapping, Missions, Mpreg, Multi, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Recovery, Unethical Experimentation, triple agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:53:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24092386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velocity_Owl87/pseuds/Velocity_Owl87
Summary: During a routine mission, Steve Rogers and the STRIKE team end up finding evidence of human experimentation by HYDRA and their missing colleague, Jack Rollins, among the subjects.Subjects that have been far too changed and far too dangerous to release to the public, leaving SHIELD with the dilemma of what to do with these men, while Brock struggles with what to do now that his former colleague and undefined relationship has come back to the forefront. Add in a side effect of the testing and another prisoner in the mix...Let's just say that Brock and the rest of SHIELD will have their hands full for a while yet.
Relationships: Jack Rollins & Brock Rumlow, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow/Original Male Character(s), Steve Rogers & Jack Rollins
Comments: 26
Kudos: 22





	1. So much for a routine mission

**Author's Note:**

> So I have a thing about hybrids to be honest and the idea of experimentation. So here we have Jack Rollins being the hapless subject, Brock Rumlow as the very confused agent, and Steve Rogers being like "How did it it end up like this?" 
> 
> Playing very fast and loose with timelines. Bucky may or may not show up. the character of Marshall Walters is based on Henry Cavill. I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this. It's very bonkers. But I wanted to write it. That's it. 
> 
> There may be some errors. Proofed and edited, but I will try to catch the errors and fix them. 
> 
> Title is a bastardization of a Crowded House song. Yup.

Brock sat slumped against a somewhat empty side of the carrier, his breathing shallow as he fought to get some oxygen into his bruised lungs. The bit of morphine Cruz had stuck him with was helping to take the edge off, but the pain was still there. And growing sharper with every moment. 

He had dropped there, waving the others off in favour of looking after the prisoners and the seriously wounded. They had achieved their objective, but not without casualties and injuries. Brock figured he was one of the least injured, so he had stayed in the area he had been dropped off on, occasionally biting the inside of his mouth as to not moan with the pain.

It had been manageable, but now, it was sharper and making him focus solely on the right side of his gut, where he knew that it was only luck and the serum that held his intestines in. That and the thick bandage pads someone had been quick to plaster all over. It had been a good thing that was the case, since he was sure he would have bled out ages ago.

“Not long now, Rumlow.” The low rumble of Roger’s voice registered as he sat there, one hand pressing down on the bandages that they had hastily slapped on him before they hauled ass out of the facility. Brock only snorted, barely able to keep it together to make a noise, never mind say anything. He glanced over to Rogers, who crouched down beside him and made to take a look at the wound, but a low hiss made him pause and look at the opposite corner. 

Jack Rollins glares at them, his gaze unnerving. Maybe even more than what Brock recalled when they worked together. Particularly due to the vertical pupil and the iridescence of the still green pupils. His mouth pressed itself into a thin line, hiding the elongated canines that had taken a chunk out of Romanova’s arm. His hands were restrained due to the manacles they had slapped on him, yet he still flexed his fingers. Claws came forth, then retracted. 

Brock winced at the sight and shifted, making Jack strain against the rest of the restraints, the small bump in his midsection made more prominent by his actions. Brock’s eyes are drawn to it and another jolt of pain goes through him, scrambling his thoughts over it. 

He groans and that made Jack move again, hissing at Rogers as he did so. 

Despite their earlier encounter, Jack was concerned. Desperately so, if he wasn’t covering his middle and the precious cargo he carried there. The others react, hissing or yowling plaintively, as they pick up Jack’s distress. Restraints and cuffs creak, and it is now Brock’s turn to hiss at Rogers.

“Make it quick. No sense in riling them up when we’re an hour away still.” He mutters at Rogers, who gives him a quick nod in response. 

“I’m checking on him. That’s all. It was a deep wound.” Rogers explains, his voice soft and comforting as he explains what he’s doing. 

Despite being a big man, Rogers knows how to make himself smaller and nonthreatening. He waits a few moments for Jack to respond. Which he does with a huff, slumping back and lowering his arms to cover his midsection again. 

The others react accordingly, calming down enough for Rogers’ to peel back Brock’s hand. 

He swore quietly when he saw the saturated bandages and the still gaping gashes on Brock’s abdomen, going from right hip to left shoulder. 

“That bad?” Brock wheezed out, making Roger’s mouth and eyes harden. 

“Let’s just say it’s a good thing we’re only half an hour away and we have the best medical personnel on hand. Or you’d be needing to write your will.” Rogers replied tartly, the gentleness of his hands belying his tone as he thickly layered on bandages on Brock’s wounds. He swapped the old ones out and tied them all up with half remembered ties. 

“Lie down. It won’t hurt as much.” Rogers ordered him, pushing him onto the padded mat on the floor and covering him up with a blanket. He doubted it would get Rumlow warm, but it was better than leaving him shivering and clammy as his body fought off the pain and the creeping shock of his injuries. 

Brock groaned at the change, but had to admit that the new position was better. He didn’t feel like anything was going to fall out nor was the pain worse. Just a steady burning throb that he could manage to somewhat ignore. He sighed as his eyes slipped shut as he fell into a light doze. 

He felt someone drawing a blanket over him and Jack’s small noises of distress that smoothed into some low humming and then-

“Rumlow. Wake up. Rumlow. We’re here.” Rogers’ voice was soft in Brock’s ear, followed by Jack’s question, which was lost in the bustle and din as medics came on and started working on him, shining lights in his eyes, getting tubes into him, and getting him on a stretcher. He could barely open his eyes or focus on what was going on around him as they took him out. 

He thought he heard Jack again, but that was lost to him when one of the medics injected his line with the good stuff. Once it hit his veins with a cool touch, his eyes fluttered close and he was just gone.

~*~*~*~*

“Someone will come to talk to you soon.” One of his guards told Jack as they entered his cell. 

“When?” Jack asked hoarsely, holding out his hands so the guard could unlock the restraints. They had thankfully taken the chains off his ankles before he got to shower. 

“Don’t know. Just keep cool is all I’m saying.” The guard replied, pulling the restraints off, then stepping out of the cell and pulling the door shut, leaving Jack as much a prisoner as he had been before this entire situation had started. The guard left, and Jack moved towards the bed in the cell.

Jack tugged at the large dark blue jumper that matched the navy trousers and socks he’s been issued after he was finally allowed to take a shower. Canvas shoes completed his outfit.. His hair curled at his shoulders, making the jumper wet with the water that dripped into the wool, making the t-shirt under damp as well. 

It was not ideal, but after only wearing thin cotton pajamas and slippers, he’d take it. The others he’s briefly seen have said the same thing. Marshall, the only other carrier was practically in tears over the warm clothes and food. The others were pleased, but Marshall was the only one so affected. Hormones, Jack guessed. 

_“And soon it’s going to be my turn._ ” Jack thought as he had nodded at Marshall as he had passed by the cell the other man was held in. Marshall had nodded back, wide blue eyes with their vertical pupils glassy, his dark curly hair a mess around his head, the rest of him swathed in the same navy blue clothes Jack was wearing. Jack wished he could say something, or do something. 

But what could he do? They were prisoners here. Considering that he had two SHIELD operates on either side and restraints on ankles and wrists, it wasn’t going to happen. Marshall’s eyes were wide at that sight and Jack only shook his head and gave him a bland smile that was meant to comfort. Hopefully even calm the other soldier down. 

Marshall was British Army and tough. Yet after all of the experiments, they had worn him down enough to cry over new clothes. Jack hadn’t gotten there yet. He only lashed out, using the enhancements they had forced on him to destroy him. Marshall had been the one to scramble the locks and disable the alarms. Jack had been the one to kill the head scientists and some of the guards. Maybe even agents. He didn’t know. 

All he knew was that he hadn’t stopped until he had been face to face with Rumlow, his claws buried in his erstwhile commander’s gut and his eyes wide and dark with pain. It was his eyes that had made Jack’s brain go blank and his determination crack. He remembered those eyes. Remembered Brock himself. 

The memories hit Jack hard and he released Rumlow, letting the other agents and Captain America take him in. He knelt at their orders and laced his fingers behind his neck. He kept his gaze straight ahead, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes when they saw what had been done to Rumlow. He heard the disgusted exclamations, but said nothing as he was restrained and hauled to his feet. Not roughly. The Captain hadn’t allowed it. 

Even when Jack had torn off half of the restraints when they worked on Brock, the Captain hadn’t allowed them to manhandle him. Rogers had been the one to hold him back, to explain in that reasonable voice of his. Over and over again until Jack finally calmed down enough to be taken to the holding facility. To the showers. To the doctors. To this cell. 

He looked around the small room, painted in off blues and greys. Sturdy bars. No windows. A bed piled with blankets. A small sink and toilet in the corner. It wasn’t terrible, but it was a marked upgrade to the cinderblock and rusted metal of his older cell. 

He pushed the blankets behind his back, shifting and moving around until the wall wasn’t digging into his back and his belly didn’t feel as cramped. He looked down at it, and as if he had summoned the attention, the child started to move.

He stared down at his midsection, watching his jumper covered middle twitch and move for several moments before he put his hands on it and pressed gently on the bump. It took a few tries, but the child finally calmed down, leaving him alone with his thoughts again. And the anticipation as to who would be coming. And if they were, would they tell him about Brock. 

Jack let his head fall back against the wall and his eyes close as the possibility of Brock dying hit him full force. 

He shuddered at the thought, his hands clutching at his jumper, his breathing erratic as he fought to not spiral into the horrible possibilities of that happening. He had hoped for so long that they would meet again. Had hoped that he would be found and Brock and SHIELD would have an answer to all of this. And to have come so close and have it snatched away…

His eyelids tightened and he forced his hands to unclench so he could press his fingers down on his eyelids and ease the tears and the panic that had risen inside him. He wouldn’t let it win. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and forced his emotions back. Bit by bit, but he managed to push them back until he was feeling nothing but a grey and heavy calmness that slid through every part of him. 

It wasn’t ideal, but it was enough. 

And just in time as well, he thought as he heard the faint echoes of footsteps starting down the hall. It wouldn’t take long. He and Marshall and a few others were in the first rooms. Jack listened for the doors to open and he waited for his visitor and hopefully news of Brock. He didn’t want to seem over hopeful or overeager. Nor did he want to show his hand just yet. 

He was fully aware of the damage he had caused. Even if the memories were hazy due to the cocktail of drugs they had been given, he knew. He had seen the marks of it on his hands and in the blood that had swirled down the drain. He was fully aware of what awaited them all. Unless…

He listened for the steps. Two sets. He waited until they were standing at the door of his cell before he opened his eyes and turned to face whoever it was. 

“Captain Rogers?” 

The captain nodded, the red haired woman saying and doing nothing other than a cool appraisal. 

“And you are?” Rogers asked, his voice calm and even, betraying nothing of his thoughts or motivations.

“Jack Rollins. Former STRIKE operative. I was captured.” Jack explained, noting the woman pull out a tablet and start tapping away to look at whether he could be found in the database. 

The sharp inhale she gave and the way she looked at Rogers told him they had found his file. 

“Alright. Now that’s settled, do you mind telling us why exactly you killed a bunch of men and nearly disembowelled Agent Rumlow?”


	2. It's still too much to guess at

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack answers questions and asks some of his own, while Steve and Natasha start filling out pieces and try and find what to do next before they report to Fury.

Jack winced at the question. He honestly could have done without that reminder, even though it did give him a small sliver of information on Brock’s status. Which was that Brock was alive. 

And as much as it hurt, he did get his back up a bit about that, prompting him to defend his actions in the matter.

“Would you believe it was an accident? They drugged us after the tests. Couldn’t control us otherwise. I didn’t know my friend from my foe while under them. None of us could. And believe me when I say he is the last person that I ever want dead.”

Rogers’ eyes narrowed as he weighed Jack’s reply. It took a moment or two, but when he did, he gave Jack a nod. 

“How is he then, if he’s not dead? Will I get to see him?” Jack asked in a soft voice, making Rogers’ look taken aback at the question, but not hostile to the idea. The woman only tapped away at her tablet, as if noting the questions, but said nothing to either dissuade or agree with the idea. It made Jack think that they would tell him no and he accepted the disappointment silently. It was a long shot anyways.

“I can’t give you a definitive answer at the moment. Logistics have to be worked out still. Chances are you will be called in and get your brain picked. Until we know the parameters, I can’t say. I’m sorry. But I will try and find out for you.” 

Rogers looked chagrined as he gave that explanation, but Jack didn’t mind. At least he was getting something. Unlike the silences from the scientists and goons they hired to keep them in check. 

He sighed and relaxed a fraction, the child not following his lead and poking him, forcing him to put his hand on his abdomen. He heard the soft inhalation of the woman as she noticed and Jack barely resisted the urge to pull his hand away. Instead, he raised his chin and met both of their gazes square on. 

The woman was trying to not have a reaction, but her heightened heartbeat told a different story. Rogers was simply analysing him, his expression closed as he put the clues together. 

“What experiments did they do to you then? How many of you were subjected to this?” 

Jack shifted up a bit, knowing full well that Rogers wasn’t just talking about the experiments. There was something in his eyes and the way he seemed to tense up when he looked at Jack’s midsection that made it painfully obvious to Jack. 

“Marshall. Maybe two others. They picked the strongest of us to do this with. The others barely made it through the other additions.” Jack replied, sweeping his hand from his face down to his body. He flexed the claws, noting the darkness that flickered through Rogers’ eyes. It was a moment’s darkness, but it was enough for Jack to see and take note of. 

“Why did they do this? Some kind of HYDRA plan? Create soldiers and sell them to the highest bidder?”

Jack shrugged, smoothing his hand down his middle once again. “Quite likely. I wasn’t privy to their conversations. Neither were the others. Marshall...he must have been at the wrong place and time. He’s SAS.”

Rogers nodded, his eyes flickered to the woman whose fingers flew over the tablet as she cross-checked all that Jack was telling them. 

“You speak of this Marshall...Who is he?” Rogers asked, his eyes flickering to the other cells in the wing. 

“The one with dark curly hair and blue eyes. He’s the SAS I was telling you about. His cell is near mine. He’s further along in his pregnancy. He was the success story. Then the rest of us followed.” Jack explained, a wave of tiredness making his eyes burn suddenly.

“We should get a hold of the SAS then. And the other branches any of the others belong to. Maybe even get them home. If possible.” The woman spoke up in a neutral tone that told Jack that was the last likely outcome for any of them. HYDRA had made them weapons and breeding machines. There was no going back to a normal life for them. 

Rogers caught his eye, but Jack only looked away. There was nothing that he could say to that, if he was honest. And he wasn’t about to give Rogers false hope. He wasn’t that much of a prick to do so. He was all too aware of what was on the other side. 

Besides, he was exhausted. His passenger was taking it out of him at what Jack suspected was a higher rate than a normal pregnancy would. He made a mental note to talk to Marshall and compare notes soon. Maybe he had more insight than Jack himself did at the current time. 

Shifting to get more comfortable, he finally turned his attention to Rogers and the woman. 

“Is there anything else? I would like to sleep if I may. I’m sure that I won’t get any sleep in the upcoming days.”

Jack asked, trying to not be rude, but his eyes were starting to fall shut and the child was finally still. He could get some sleep before he no doubt faced the gauntlet of SHIELD to come. 

Rogers looked at the woman and a look was exchanged between them before Rogers faced him again. He shook his head. 

“Nothing else right now. Sleep then, Rollins.” Rogers said before he and the woman departed, leaving him to blink after them before he fell into a dark and dreamless sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*

“What do you make of all of this, Steve?” Natasha asked the moment that they were out of the cell block and moving towards the main area of SHIELD headquarters. 

They had reports to make and calls to delegate. Those men needed to be referenced and their headquarters alerted as quickly as possible. They had gone through enough and Natasha was sure that despite the warm clothes and food, they would much rather be in familiar spaces. Maybe even home. 

She knew it could be all wishful thinking and blow up in their faces, but they still owed it to them to at least  _ try _ . She bit her lip, smoothed her hair back, wincing as the stitches pulled with the movement and turned to look at Steve. 

“Typical HYDRA sacrificing bodies for their own gains. At least we got these men out alive. Operatives too, going by the names that we got so far.” Natasha added as she looked down at the list after they had visited all of the cells. 

“SAS and NZSAS. Recces. JTF2. It’s like a buffet of the best Spec Ops out there. No wonder why they were experimenting on them. Up the ante if they were going to be facing super humans. That’s my guess.” Natasha mused as they went through the doors, past security and into the glass elevator towards Fury’s office. 

Steve ushered her inside and pressed the button to get them there, his brows furrowed as he mulled over what Natasha had noted. He chewed on his lip. It made sense, but there was something tugging at the edges of his mind making him puzzle it further. 

“But why pregnancies? That just doesn’t make sense at all. Isn’t that a risky endeavour? Not to mention having them out of commission while they are in that state. Why do it?” 

Natasha shrugged. “Maybe it was because they could? Or maybe because they figured that it was a better way to make an experiment come to fruition?”

_ That _ stopped Steve cold. 

Had HYDRA gotten a sample of the serum and were creating their own samples through the experiments? How many had they created? And where did they get the sample to reverse engineer it in the first place?

“Son of a bitch.” Steve muttered, making Natasha raise an eyebrow at the language. 

“We need to get them vetted and tested quickly then. Did anything survive from the lab?”

Natasha tapped her pad. “All in here. Should I send it to Tony and Bruce?”

“Yes. Right away. I have a feeling that HYDRA has opened yet another can of worms and it’s a bad one.”

Natasha was about to ask, but when Commander Fury appeared, the question died on her lips. They had a mission to report on after all. Her questions could wait. 

Commander Fury turned from the screens he was scanning and looked at them expectantly. 

“Well?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The weekend got away from me. I'm trying to post this at least one chapter per week. I will also admit that this will be Jack centric and it's more of a slower and character based situation and aftermath of experimentation and coping with all of that.   
> I also threw in some Spec Ops from around the world that are accurate to my knowledge. I looked it up, but as always there might be errors. Covering my bases here.


	3. Facing up to the surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock finds out some potentially disturbing news, a new player comes into the field, Jack finally gets to visit Brock and give him the news he had been holding onto for months.

Brock frowned as the doctor and the nurse prodded at the still painful wounds on his torso. Their whispers and displeased expressions made him wonder if something had gone wrong. The last thing he needed was to be cut open again and doped up to the eyeballs while they dealt with any possible infection. He hoped not, but he wasn’t getting any hints as to what was going on. 

He had tried to ask, but had been ignored, which was annoying him to kingdom come. He was tempted to grab the doctor by his collar and shake some answers out of him when the doctor and the nurse finished wrapping him up and smoothed the bandages and gown back.

He only had a moment to breathe a sigh of relief and sit up a bit when the doctor cleared his throat. 

“Agent Rumlow, I do apologise for not communicating, because I am honestly confused at the state of your wounds.” The doctor, a younger man with pale eyes and mousy hair, giving him a strong resemblance to a shy mouse, explained. The nurse was a contrast to him in that she was dark and quiet, putting the extra bandages away and cleaning up.

Brock felt himself paling at that, one hand going over to press onto the bandages as if that would give him the answer to his question. Yet he didn’t feel like things had gone worse. In fact, he was sore. But not in agony as he had been in when he was first brought in and kept under for...He honestly hadn’t a clue how many days had passed. 

“What is going on? Is it an infection? Did something get nicked?” Brock spat out, his brows drawing together in concern. 

“No! Nothing like that at all. In fact, it is the opposite.” The doctor explained in hurried and awed tones. 

“You’re healing faster than expected. We had to take the stitches out. In fact, I’d say that you will be ready to go in about a week or two. Which for this kind of injury, it is unheard of.”

Brock blinked at the news. That was certainly  _ not _ what he was expecting to hear at all. He had been preparing himself to hear that things had gone horribly wrong and that he was done for. Not that he had a healing factor that was nearer to Rogers than to most baseline humans. 

“So what you’re saying is that I shouldn’t even  _ be _ awake, never mind sitting up and talking to you right now?” Brock exclaimed, feeling slightly on edge at the realisation that at some point in his career, he  _ must _ have been a guinea pig at some point. But when? And from what source exactly?

Surely not  _ him. _

He felt his hands go cold at the idea, but the doctor was speaking to him. He pulled himself away from his dark thoughts and paid attention to his doctor, who was talking to him again. 

“Sorry, what was that? Mind wandered there.” Brock apologised, pushing back his uneasiness and questions he knew wouldn’t really have any answers. At least, not yet. 

“To be honest, you should be in a coma right now. I have no idea how you’re this well,” the doctor checked his chart again and shook his head, “You haven’t gotten a shot of Captain America’s serum have you?”

Brock laughed tersely. “Not as far as I know. No.”

The doctor nodded, made a note and put the chart away. “Well, we’ll keep an eye out if anything else happens. For now, you’re doing well and you’re also cleared for visitors. Take care of yourself, Agent Rumlow.”

“Thanks.” Brock said, nodding to the doctor and the nurse as they said their goodbyes and exited his room.

Brock waited a few minutes for them to leave before he reached over and started rummaging in his bedside table. He had to dig around a bit until he felt his fingers curl around his phone. He made a pleased noise at that and pulled it out. 

Turning it on, he sent a couple of coded messages, watching the screen until he got the confirmation ten minutes longer. He shut off his phone and popped it into the drawer again. 

The last thing he wanted was a spotlight on him. Or a way for  _ him _ to have a way to find Brock or Jack. 

The more he was under the radar, the better.

~*~*~*~*~*

The lab was gone. 

The only sign that there had been a lab in that area was scorched spots and certain areas with thick coatings of a black sludge he recognised all too well. It was what had been left of the building and no doubt the bodies that had once occupied it. 

They had been quite thorough in wiping up their trail, he noted, his mouth curling up a bit at that thought. There was nothing he could really use here. Not a drive or a computer. Or even an ID badge. Nothing. 

He walked around the perimeter, musing as to what SHIELD division it had been that had annihilated the lab. If he could get a clue, he could get a direction.

He walked and walked, scuffing his boots through the soot. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, only that he would know when he found it. 

He lost track of time as he continued his methodical searching, shuffling about through the ashes until something shiny caught his eye. He went down on one knee and ran a finger through the soot mixture, picking out a large, dirty paint chip. He rubbed it clean between his fingers and studied it closely. 

He ran his thumb across the jagged edges, trying to recall where he had seen it before. He was sure, despite everything, that he knew where it came from. He stood up, flipped it over and over as he made his way back to his vehicle in an effort to put the pieces together. 

He was nearly there when he recalled it. Of course! It came from a shield. 

Grinning to himself, he pocketed the chip before running to his vehicle and getting in.

He had to complete the next step of his mission.

~*~*~*~*~

Jack dug his knuckles hard into the small of his back as he waited for the other nameless agent to come back to his cell and give him an answer to his request. His back was starting to act up and his passenger was moving even more than before. He was also rounder than before and that pissed him off something awful. 

Luckily he wasn’t as big as Marshall, who looked roughly as if he had swallowed a large medicine ball and could barely waddle around their cell block. The others had been spared the indignity of the experiment, having miscarried due to the stress. After they had recovered, they had been moved to the general population, leaving Jack and Marshall alone. 

He looked over and saw Marshall sleeping, curled up in a nest of heavy blankets. He was very close and was just exhausted, napping more than before. The doctors weren’t too concerned. But Jack was. Especially after they had lost the other men they had shared the block with. Something he was still very conflicted about still.

Jack had watched them go, Marshall beside him, and felt vaguely jealous that they were back to normal and had a chance at a normal life. He squashed that thought quickly, stroking his belly gently as if to apologise to the child he carried. Despite making his peace with the situation, he couldn’t help but to be occasionally resentful at his situation. 

“You wish it was you, don’t you?” Marshall had muttered, making Jack shake his head. 

“Too late for any of that now.” Jack murmured. “Especially for you.”

Marshall sighed. “True. If wishes were wheels, my granny would be a bicycle.”

Jack shook his head as he rubbed his back, huffing a laugh at the memory. Marshall had unwitting eased the sting at their continued captivity and Jack had been grateful for it. Even if Marshall had been puzzled at Jack’s reaction. 

He was still idly musing about Marshall’s saying when the agent arrived with two soldiers flanking him. Jack stood up awkwardly, his heart speeding up in anticipation and the baby shifting around in response to his excitement. He stood in front of the agent who gestured for Jack to hold out his hands. 

“We got permission. Give me your hands.”

Jack scowled, but obeyed, letting himself be cuffed. As demeaning as it was, he could overlook it. After so many weeks, he was finally getting to see Brock. 

The rest was bearable. 

~*~*~*~*

Brock was half-heartedly watching a documentary on the tablet he had been given to stave off boredom. Despite being nearly fully healed, he was still under observation and not allowed to go back to his quarters just yet. He was hoping he would be able to leave in the next day or so, but in the meantime, he settled for watching ghost documentaries as he waited to be released. 

He was halfway through a video about some creepy mongoose when he heard footsteps and numerous voices coming from the hallway. Curious, he paused his documentary and sat up while debating whether he should go and look to see what the issue was. 

He had just pushed the covers away when three men entered his room. Two were guards and the other was Jack Rollins. 

A very changed Jack Rollins, his hands in cuffs in front of his large belly. His eyes were slitted like a cat’s, pupils getting wider when they landed on Brock. He smiled at the sight and moved forward.

Brock himself stood up and moved just out of Rollins’ reach.

“Rollins? Why are you here?”

Rollins gestured to his middle. “Wanted to see you and make sure you were still alive. The kid deserves to know his father, after all.”

He looked straight at a pale Brock. “I’m pregnant, Brock. That’s what they did to me. And it’s yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brock-I have a little head canon that he was getting tested on without his knowledge and he also doesn't want that to be anywhere officially in case it comes to haunt him in the future.   
> Jack-He is very conflicted and wouldn't have just normal feelings to being in his situation and the child he is carrying. He also desperately wants for Brock to know and see where it goes from there.   
> Random dude-He will show up later. He's got a stake in this.


	4. Meetings, Actions, And More Missions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man has found his end goal. Brock and Jack finally talk. Steve finds that the past may not be as dead as he first thought.

The man walked deeper into one of the supposedly abandoned lairs of HYDRA and sighed in annoyance at having to kill his way through. At least it wasn’t much of a rampage, he thought sarcastically as he had worked his way through the sparse guards and the few scientists and lab techs left. All in all, his kill toll was much lower than in other battles and part of him couldn’t help but to be relieved at that. 

He was sick of the killing. Even if they were HYDRA lackeys and the world was better off without them. He still didn’t want to continue taking lives. He was trying to move away from that now that he understood everything much more clearly. 

At least he didn’t have to put much effort into hunting the information he needed from the scientists and their lab assistants who had refused to leave when the death screams started. They had cooperated well enough, giving him all that he asked and more. Even put it on thumb drives for him to take with him once he was done in exchange for leaving them to their research. 

They had tried to plead their case by explaining their desire for the research, rather than for furthering HYDRA’s cause. He knew that it was an empty excuse when he saw the file with  _ their _ names on it. He forced them to open it and the first thing he saw was a video of a surgery that was all blood and a moaning man he recognised and was important to him. 

Exactly why that test subject was important, he couldn’t quite understand yet. Only that it hurt to see him being treated as nothing but an experiment was enough to seal their fates. 

He waited until he had gotten everything out of them before he started shooting, catching them by surprise. Even the lab assistants he knew were spies or guards got nowhere near him. He wasn’t the best of their arsenal for nothing, he thought with sour amusement as he picked his way through the carnage. 

He moved further and further in, hoping to find another mode of transportation and the self-destruct switch to level the entire place flat. He didn’t want for SHIELD to come sniffing around once he was done. Nor did he want anyone to follow his tracks either. Not yet at least. 

He kept on going, but found nothing better than the vehicle he had come here with. He did find the self-destruct, which he activated only after pulling out more supplies and petrol for the vehicle, which he knew he’d have to ditch once he got into Western Europe. He knew of a place in Belarus to get rid of it and find something else. Or not.

He was still weighing the possibilities when he got back into his transport and drove off, the explosions and fires raging behind him. He wasn’t worried that they would get out of control. A huge snow storm was on its way, finishing off his work. 

It wasn’t his concern any longer. This part of the mission at least, was done. 

“On to the next stop.” He muttered as he drove off, never looking back. 

~*~*~*~*~*

Brock only blinked at that pronouncement, not sure what to think about Jack’s announcement. His mind blanked out and it was all he could do to force his legs to take him back to the bed and flop down on it. He rubbed his face once he was sitting down, his eyes everywhere but on Jack, who was still waiting patiently for Brock to react. 

They stayed in that silent stalemate for several minutes, the only sound being the guards shuffling impatiently. It was the sound of creaking armour that brought Brock back to the moment and the situation that he had to address. Hopefully in private. 

“Can you give us some privacy? Is that possible?” Brock asked as the guards, who looked at him and then back at Jack. 

“I promise I won’t attack him. Not like I can anyways. “ Jack added, awkwardly patting the large bump of his pregnancy. He moved foot to foot, a small wince of pain crossing his face as he did so. 

The two guards moved aside and conferred quietly for a short time before they turned back to Jack and unlocked his restraints. 

“You have half an hour. If we hear anything, it’s over and done with.” One of them said before they both exited the room and took positions on either side of the doorway after closing the door. 

Jack groaned a bit as he stretched and rubbed his lower back, easing the aches and cramps that had started on the way to Brock and got worse the longer he stood there. He groaned when the muscles relaxed and he wasn’t in pain any longer.

He looked around and found the nicer version of the ubiquitous visitor’s chair and headed towards it, sitting himself down gingerly on it. He sighed in relief once he was off his feet and sat back in the chair. He shifted about until he was comfortable before he finally turned his attention to Brock, who was watching him curiously. 

Brock’s face was set in a neutral expression as he watched all of Jack’s movements, giving nothing away. He cleared his throat before he addressed Jack, who was finally sitting in the chair and waiting for Brock to speak. 

“How did this happen exactly?” Brock asked, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea of Jack being not only pregnant, but pregnant with  _ his _ child. 

Despite having gotten earlier proof of HYDRA experimentation on his own body, what had happened to Jack was far more obvious. And with even much more serious repercussions. The eyes were freaky enough. What about his internal physiology? His mind? 

Would Jack be able to be out on missions again? And most importantly, was he still loyal despite what they had done to him? Brock sure as hell wasn’t. Especially not when he wasn’t sure if they had only made him a better weapon. Or if they had left a nasty surprise behind.

Jack frowned and shrugged. “I was drugged for most of it. All I knew was that we were in some backwater town. Hot and humid and there was a flashbang and I was gone. The next thing I know, I’m strapped to a table and lines and tubes were hooked up to me. It gets really hazy after that. They liked their drugs.”

Brock raised an eyebrow at that, huffing a dry laugh at Jack’s flat words. “Really?”

Jack saw the humour and gave Brock a half smile in return. “I guess they learned the hard way that it’s easier to do experiments in a quiet space. Not to mention that it saved a lot of the subjects. Kept them from going into shock when they got cut into.”

Brock made a soft sound and nodded his agreement. Jack was right. Made more sense. Especially if they were going to completely change the physiology of some of the subjects. 

“If you were out of it, how do you know that they slid a turkey baster into you with my DNA?”

Jack snorted at that, trying and failing to get offended. He actually  _ missed  _ the banter. It wasn’t exactly the best conversation, but at least it got him out of his own head at least. 

“They told me. Showed me the video and everything. Marshall told me they did the same to him. They didn’t drug him as strongly as they did to me. That’s why I attacked. Kind of went off there a bit.” Jack explained, wobbling his hand in front of his left ear to show the confusion in his mind when Brock and the others had come to their rescue. 

Brock nodded. “Is that why you attacked me?”

Jack had the grace to blush at that. “Partly and partly because I didn’t recognise your scent. The feline DNA they jacked us up with. According to the doctors, I can expect more of that instinct going haywire the longer time goes on.”

“So what, you imprinted on me or something?” Brock snorted as he tried to wrap his head around the entire situation. Jack sighed deeply and nodded, his face flushed as he did. 

Brock filed that away for future reference. If Jack was basically a large feline predator in human skin, what would that mean for their missions. Would he actually be ready for missions? Or would SHIELD expect something else from him? From  _ them _ ?

“So when will you be going back out? When I go?”

Jack shrugged. “I know as much as you do. I doubt I’m going to be ready when the child will be born in a month or so. And even then...I don’t know if they trust me.”

Brock didn’t like the last bit that was said in almost a hushed whisper. He hadn’t considered that. Nor was he given the chance to ask more when the guards came back into the room. 

“He needs to go back to the lab. You can continue later.” One of the guards snapped out as the other got the cuffs onto Jack quickly before pulling him onto his feet, both things something that Jack didn’t resist at all. 

“What? Why? We still have time left!” Brock protested. 

“Yeah, we know. But the other prisoner went into labour and won’t calm down until Rollins is back. Now say goodbye. We have to go.”

Jack gave him a small nod that Brock returned, but it wasn’t the usual warm farewell they shared. Jack looked worried. Even as he went along with the guards, the shadows in his eyes deepened. 

The sight of Jack like that stuck with Brock long after they had gone and his food tray was delivered. 

He wasn’t sure what he felt about Jack carrying his child. He could deal with that later. What he was sure of was that he wasn’t going to lose Jack Rollins now that he had him. 

And Brock knew that he would do anything to keep him. 

_ Anything. _

~*~*~*~*~*

“Did you hear the latest?” Steve asked Natasha as they walked out of the gym, both freshly showered and back in uniforms after their workout. They had taken the break from the fact finding to manage both their energy and sanity. After weeks of going strong, something was bound to give and both had been ordered to take two days to recoup before getting back into the thick of it again. 

It had worked and both were ready to be back into the fight. Especially Steve after he had been the one to get the intelligence, which had come from his designated areas.

After the realisation of HYDRA’s experiments, Steve couldn’t help but to push forward and find proof of the other sample of the serum. As far as he was aware, only one other person had been injected by the serum. And that had been Bucky. 

And despite knowing that he might have been chasing shadows or a pipe dream, Steve  _ had _ to know. He had to find something. Anything. Whether it be the man himself. Or a corpse. It didn’t matter. Only that he would finally get concrete evidence of Bucky’s fate. 

And this desire, despite dovetailing into his missions, wasn’t to be his focus. He had been told as much by reading between the lines of what Fury had said the last time that they had met. 

And as much as Steve wanted to be rational and reasonable, when it came to Bucky, he was painfully aware that was something he’d never been good at ever doing. And he found that the more that he thought about it, the more he found that he didn’t much mind. Bucky had always been by his side and if he could get him back, he would. No questions asked. 

And with this new piece of intelligence, he was sure that he was on the right path. 

“No. What is it?” Natasha asked, frowning at Steve as they moved through headquarters and towards the hangar.

“A HYDRA base, or what we think was a HYDRA base was decimated in Central Asia. And whoever it was that rooted them out is asking to meet in Brussels.”

Natasha pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing as she weighed the information that Steve had just given her. 

“How can we trust this source? Maybe they’re leading us into a trap?” She pointed out as they continued towards one of the jets. 

“Fury asked the same thing and they sent us this as proof.” Steve added as he showed her the reports they had sent. 

Natasha took one look at them and her face paled. Despite the age-worn documents and the faded ink, the Cyrillic was clear enough to read. She knew what they were. And why they were important. 

“How did they get this? It was a rumour that this place existed even back then. But they found it? And have all of the information stored within?”

Steve nodded, making her inhale and exhale deeply. 

“I don’t quite like this, Steve. I really don't. Besides,” she turned to look at him with soft eyes, “Are you ready for what you might find, Steve?”

Steve shrugged. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose. It may not be what I want it to be, but I have to know. I’ve lived with the questions for so long that even if it’s terrible, I have to find out.”

Natasha nodded, stopping long enough to put a gentle hand on Steve’s forearm and give it a gentle squeeze. 

“Alright. As long as we’re clear on this. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took an interesting turn that I wasn't expecting and a new player has entered the game. What is his goal? We'll find out. And yes, Jack and Brock are starting to soften and Steve is also on his own quest.


	5. Putting it all together and hating the result

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rogers and Romanova meet up with the informant, who has one thing on his mind and one thing only. Brock is introspective about his life choices and makes changes. Changes that get put on hold when he gets called to do an impossible task that pulls him into the sphere of Rogers and Romanova, with shocking results.

Brock looked at the clock and sighed when he saw he still had some time to kill before he was due to visit Jack. As much as he would have liked to be with him more often, they had visiting hours and he also would have to compete with Marshall, who was never pleased at having to share Jack with anyone. 

Brock had been hoping that would have changed once the baby had arrived, but it had only made Marshall clingier and much more possessive over Jack. Romanova had made some noises about hopefully fixing that situation. What it was, Brock could only guess. He figured it was to do with whatever she and Rogers set off to do. 

He was technically still on the Injured Reserve so he wasn’t too miffed at missing out on the mission. Those two could handle themselves and if they didn’t...Well, Brock had done his best and trained replacements just in case he and Jack were incapacitated in some way. His replacements would be able to handle the job well enough. 

Right now, he was more focused on trying to find more time with Jack and not in the cell he was in. He was starting to miss having one on one time with Jack, just talking to him about anything and everything. Or sitting beside him as they silently drank coffee together, just enjoying each other’s company. He missed leaning against Jack. Missed having Jack curl up into his side and pull his hand onto the roundness of his belly covered by his jumper.

He should have been worried about being so domestic, but he couldn't find it in him to be scornful about it as he otherwise would have been.

Not when the old order was crumbling around them as it was and Jack was more or less a prisoner as was Marshall. He didn’t like the way that Jack looked so haunted whenever Brock had to leave. Nor did he like how Marshall was always looking for someone to arrive and looked like a beaten dog when no one did arrive. 

The more time he spent with them, the more he started to see the writing on the wall and started to cache information and funds just in case. He wanted for the children to have a better start than he and Jack and possibly Marshall had. So he laid his plans and waited.

With this in mind, he logged into the off site where he got his orders and looked around. 

Brock swore softly when he saw another one of the sites had been scrubbed clean and was all black. He checked the others and found that they were still there, but had no new orders for him or any of the squads. He frowned when he saw that . Something or someone was taking all of the HYDRA bases, doing SHIELD’S dirty work for them and for once, Brock was worried that he would be the one sent out to take care of that problem. He pushed the worry away and instead checked his inbox. 

_ “Brussels. Two weeks. STRIKE is required. Roskoff might be compromised. Neutralise Roskoff.” _

He typed in his code as affirmation and logged out.

Guess his luck had run out. 

~*~*~*~*

The man checked his watch as he briskly made his way to the assigned meeting spot in Brussels. The city center was not busy that time of day and the drizzle added to the impression of silence and stillness. He knew better and had been careful to not get caught on camera. As far as he knew, no one was tailing him, which was also a good thing. 

For one, he wasn’t on anyone’s radar as of yet. For the other, he hated having to kill anyone in a city. Less places to hide the bodies and harder to get away clean. He was good, but there was always a chance he could cock it up. So he moved fast, the messenger bag at his side thumping along as he walked to the coffee shop. 

He ordered a coffee with milk and went to the middle of the shop, a place that was near people, but isolated enough if he needed to have a long conversation. Once he was settled (back to the wall of the shop, eyes to the door) he waited. Not for long, as it turned out 

He knew who they were just by the way that they moved. He was tall, blonde and blue eyed and had an earnestness of someone the man had used to know. Quite well, if the strange ache in his chest was anything to go by. He filed that emotion away to explore later. He had most of his memories back, but he was still missing a few and right now wasn’t the time. 

He pushed them away and instead focused on the red haired woman that was his companion. She looked familiar, but he gathered that it was more due to surveillance he had found from the bases he had destroyed. He didn’t think much more about her as he instead mentally prepared himself to talk to them.

“Roskoff?” Her voice was low and husky as she approached the table, her blonde companion right behind her. 

Roskoff (It wasn’t his favourite, but he had been pressed for time when he had made contact) nodded and gestured to the empty chairs. They took the seats and he pulled his messenger bag onto his lap.

“Thank you for meeting with us. I’m Natasha and this is Steve.I understand you have something you’d like for us to see?”

The woman, Natasha, asked as she leaned forward, her bright blue eyes focused on him as she waited for him to produce the information he had promised them. Steve looked unhappy and tense, but he kept quiet and waited for Natasha to continue. 

“I do. It’s all here,” Roskoff replied, gesturing to the bag in his lap, “Do you have the information that I asked for?”

Natasha nodded as she reached into her jacket, pulled out a picture, and slid it over to him. He picked it up and studied it, taking in the features of the man and the baby that he held to his chest. It was him. Looking exactly how he remembered. 

The baby...It was still too young to see if it had anything of him yet. He’d have to see him up close and personal to make sure. But he was sure of it. The files he found had said as much. But he still wanted to make sure that was his own child. 

They had kept up their side of the bargain. He would deal with them. 

He opened the bag and pulled out a smaller pouch that contained all of the drives he had collected from all of the sites he had been to and pushed it towards her. 

“It’s all there. I checked it. Now I have to ask for one last favour. The child. I need to see him.”

~*~*~*~*~

Brock sat on the rooftop, watching Rogers and Romanova and their informant. His gut clenched as he watched them go, his hands number with the cold the drizzling rain brought with it. He had already gotten the perimeters of his orders. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger of his sniper rifle. 

He swallowed hard as he put two and two together. That wasn’t Roskoff who was with Rogers and Romanova. 

That was the Asset. 

And there was no way that he was going to be doing anything with  _ him _ . 

“Fuck that noise.” He muttered, moving as quickly as he could with his cold hands to disassemble his rifle and pack it up. This was the only time he had refused an order and despite it going against his training, there was no way he would take on the Asset. He’d rather take the punishment that might kill him, than have a fight that would. 

“Fuck that noise.” Brock muttered as he picked up his case and made his way out of the roof and into the stairwell. He was nervous, aware that there were eyes on him, but he kept on moving like normal. He hitched his case up his shoulder a bit more and kept on walking, heading towards the cafe where Rogers and Romanova were with the Asset. If he was going to go all in, he might as well get them on his side when all hell would break loose. 

He mused about the irony of The Asset being the tool by which HYDRA would be destroyed when the first bullet whizzed by his head, burying itself in the building he passed by.

He heard screaming and ducked, careful to dodge most of the bullets coming his way while he moved through screaming crowds towards the cafe. Billets grazed him, but he didn’t stop. If he did, he would be a dead man, plain and simple. So he ran.

He only had enough time to duck inside the cafe he had watched and take shelter behind the heavy wooden door when the barrage came. Broken glass and screams filled the air as well as swearing in Russian and English. He turned to look and was yanked backwards behind the counter.

"Rumlow? What the hell was that?"

Brock turned to Rogers, who was still holding on, his face twisted into a scowl at the pandemonium taking place in the cafe. 

“HYDRA wanted me to take out your informant. I-”

The bullet came out of nowhere, hitting him in the shoulder, making his body jerk, then collapse into Rogers’ arms. 

Rogers and Roskoff/The Asset swore and sprung into action. 

“Fuck Rumlow! Out of all the ones they could have sent, they had to send  _ you _ !”

Brock gave him a half-hearted grin. He was losing blood and even with the field medicine Rogers and The Asset were giving him, he knew he was going to black out soon. 

“Yeah, don’t look too disappointed. Had to draw the short straw-”

He coughed, tasting the blood before his eyes fell shut. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story has been sort of writing itself and I'm letting it, so we are close to an end of sorts. I have been dealing with RL paperwork, a busted scanner, and the usual madness that has been the norm in every day life. Hence the lateness of this chapter. I'm hoping to get back on track for the next one and have it and an epilogue of sorts done by the beginning of July.  
> Thanks to all reading and commenting! Greatly appreciated!!


	6. Work Out the Secrets You Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes are stuck in a shoot-out, Thor drops by, old secrets of all types get brought to light, and some closure is gained. Not quite what was expected, but better than what could have happened.

“This is not how I hoped this mission was going to go!” Natasha ground out as she exchanged fire with HYDRA agents, using the wooden counter as a shield while she in turn covered Cap and an injured Rumlow while Roskoff covered her other side.

“Yeah, me neither! Not like I enjoy being part of a bloodbath in Brussels!” Roskoff shot back as he ducked behind the makeshift barricades. He took the time to pop a new clip into his gun and look at how Rogers was handling Rumlow’s injuries. 

“Neither do we! So why is this happening?” Rogers shot back as he grabbed a stack of towels and napkins, poured alcohol on some and slapped them on the raw looking wound that was Rumlow’s left shoulder. Whatever rounds they had used, it had been overkill, in Roskoff’s opinion. He would be surprised if Rumlow came out of this unscathed. 

He looked up at Rogers, wordlessly asking for an update. Rogers’s mouth thinned, but he didn’t shake his head, making some of the guilt he felt about Rumlow’s state dissipate. He wasn’t close to death and he could see that despite Rumlow was mostly out of it, he was still conscious enough to moan in pain whenever Rogers treated his wounds and moved him. 

“It missed the artery, but totally screwed up the shoulder and arm. He’s going to be lucky if he doesn’t lose it.” Rogers explained as he added more towels to the wound and added pressure to stop the bleeding. 

“Good. I’m glad. Even if he  _ was _ the reason why we’re being shot at. He’s changed, that’s for sure. Five years ago, he wouldn’t have even hesitated. He’s gone soft,” Roskoff laughed humorlessly, “Or rather,  _ softer _ . He was-”

Whatever it was that he was going to say was cut off by a shot whizzing too close to Natasha, making her swear a string of Russian expletives before she ducked back again. 

“Hey, in case you forgot, we are still being shot at here! A little help, guys?” She snapped as she too, emptied her guns and popped new clips in. 

Roskoff looked at Rogers and shrugged. “Later. I have a feeling we have quite a bit to talk about.”

Rogers nodded and focused on grabbing a roll of duct tape he had spotted earlier and used it to keep the towels and table linen around Rumlow’s shoulder. Although the bleeding looked to be sluggish, Rogers didn’t know how long the shoot out was going to take and the last thing he wanted was for Rumlow to bleed to death. 

Even if he seemed to be the cause of the shoot out in the first place. 

He reached over to his earpiece and tapped it, hoping that someone would be there to pick up the call and hopefully send some back ups to aid in their exit and to get Rumlow some medical aid.

“Headquarters, come in.” He yelled out above the noise of gunfire and screams. Rogers waited, chewing on his lip as he did. He waited for what felt like an age when he heard the click of a connection and Hill’s voice come on the line. 

_ “Hill here. What’s going on, Captain?” _ Maria Hill’s crisp voice came over the earpiece, making Rogers groan in relief. 

“We got a situation here. HYDRA found us out and we need some back up.” He looked down at Brock, whose eyes were fluttering as he fought to keep his slim grip on consciousness, something that Rogers wished he would give up. 

“We also have a man down. Serious injuries, so we’ll need a medic. I can only do so much with linen and duct tape. Don’t want to haul him out while ducking bullets and risk him getting shot.” He heard Hill blow out a breath as she took all of the information in. 

“Thor is nearby, I’ll contact him while we get a team out of Ramstein base. Can you keep them off for at least twenty minutes?” Hill asked. 

“I can’t make any promises on that. Nor can Rumlow.” Rogers explained, ducking again as a stray bullet clipped his ear and sunk into the wood panelling behind him. 

“We’ll do our best, but even I can’t manage portals and before you ask, that is not one of Wanda’s skillset. Hill out.” 

Rogers tapped his earpiece and stifled the sigh as he checked on Rumlow’s makeshift bandage. 

“What’s the situation?” Natasha asked, ducking back behind the splintered and cracking counter that was miraculously holding on to provide them some sort of shielding. Something that Rogers hoped would continue at least until Thor or their backup arrived to bail them out. 

“ETA is twenty minutes. A team coming in from Ramstein base and Thor coming in from Norway, I’m assuming,” Rogers replied, relieved to see that the stain hadn’t grown any bigger and that Rumlow had finally given his tenuous hold on being awake. His pulse was weak, but steady, making relief wash through Rogers. 

Although he was trying to understand why Rumlow had been there in the first place and why he had been trying to take Roskoff (He was sure that name was a cover, but until he could get some time alone with the man and determine that he  _ was _ Bucky, he would be Roskoff) out, he was glad that the Rumlow had survived. He had fought beside the man on many missions and would hate to lose him on the field and leave more questions than answers in regards to his appearance in Brussels on that day. 

Or why Roskoff had recognised him and had been saddened at the sight of him there. 

Speaking of…

He looked up in time to see Roskoff swear in Russian and unclip a flash grenade before catching Roger’s eye while Natasha popped another clip into her gun again. 

“Ran out of bullets. Figured I could buy some time while she picks them off.” He explained as he was about to pull the clip, the scent of ozone rose sharply in the air. Roskoff frowned and was about to comment when a large bolt of lighting hit the cafe, engulfing the entire place in white light, blinding them all. 

“What the hell is that?” Rogers heard Roskoff ask, his vision still spotty and fuzzy after Thor’s dramatic entrance. They heard Thor roar, lighting strikes again, the pained screams of the last HYDRA troops and then...Silence.

“Our back up.” Natasha replied, muttering under her breath as she tried to clear her vision. Thor’s voice rang out, looking for them and prompting Natasha to call out to him.

“Huh. Well, I won’t need this anymore.” Roskoff muttered, eliciting a bark of a laugh from Rogers.

~*~*~*~*~*

Jack glanced at the clock and tried to not think of the worst possible scenarios. He was an old hand at knowing that missions always went awry. Returns weren’t always guaranteed and a late return could mean anything from a successful mission to a capture. Especially if it was what he suspected. 

The baby shifted inside of him and he absentmindedly put a hand on his side to calm him, but the baby kept on moving. He rubbed and murmured until the baby had more or less settled, letting him roll over to curl up beside Marshall and Winnie. Both were purring as they slept, making Jack smile a bit. At least someone was sleeping well. Unlike him, who was awake and worried as to when Brock would come back. 

The baby moved again and he forced himself to not think about it unless he wanted to make another trip to the bathroom. Or worse, push himself into labour, as Marshall had warned him last night as he nursed a fussy Winnie. He had a few weeks left and that was the last thing he wanted. He still shuddered when he recalled how terrifying it had been for Marshall to have had Winnie, who had been tiny and barely breathing when she had emerged. 

He shuddered and got closer, chasing assurance in the warmth and nearness of Marshall, who instinctively realised that Jack needed the assurance and moved towards him. Despite being asleep, he knew that Jack needed the comfort and gave it to him. 

Jack tamped down the side of him that would have scoffed at his softness. Called himself a little bitch and ordered himself to man up. Yet after being there in the cells and having Brock and Marshall near, he would just ignore that part of him and get closer to both of them. He found that despite circumstances putting him and Marshall together, he rather  _ liked _ Marshall. 

He supposed that was the reason why they had made a “colony” as one of the doctors put it. Jack wanted to scoff at the theory, but after finding Marshall in his nest and then the draw that Winnie presented to him, he had to admit that they had a point. Not gracefully, but he did stop scowling whenever he woke up to find Marshall right next to him. 

He was still brooding about the situation, when he heard activity happening outside of the cell block that had been their home for almost half a year and some. He sat up, craning his neck to hopefully see what was going on when he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Marshall speak up.

“What’s got you bothered?” Marshall murmured sleepily, making Jack jolt at the words.

“How the hell did you even know? Weren’t you asleep just a minute ago?” Jack asked, turning to face Marshall, who was looking at him with heavy lidded eyes as he looked up at Jack, hitching a still sleeping Winnie higher up on his chest. 

“I was. Got pulled awake by you and then the outside noises. I guess we’ve got more company.” Marshall noted, letting his eyes slide shut. Jack frowned. He didn’t like the idea of sharing their space with any others. Especially not if they were HYDRA. 

“I hope not. HYDRA wasn’t happy at letting us go.” Jack reminded him, making Marshall shrug. 

“It’s not like we have a say in the matter,” Marshall pointed out, eyes opening and slipping shut again. 

Jack scowled and wanted to be angry, but didn’t have the heart to disagree. Marshal was right. If they did, they wouldn’t be stuck there, watching and waiting for-

The whoosh of the doors sliding open and the sounds of boots going down the hall caught his attention, giving him enough momentum to sit up and walk to the door of their cell. 

He stood and watched as numerous bruised and battered former HYDRA troops walked past, dressed in the same outfits that he and Marshall had been given. He watched the processing silently, noticing that they had walked past their section. One that they hadn’t been allowed in.

He watched them go until the door opened up again to reveal less guards and the sound of a stretcher being wheeled by. He watched the procession, thinking it would go past, he was stunned to see that it had stopped in the empty cell across the wide hall from them. 

Curious, Jack watched the cell door open and the stretcher being pushed inside. He craned his neck to see who it was and nearly had the baby right and then and there when he saw the guards pull up an unconscious Brock Rumlow.

Brock Rumlow, with his arm and shoulder heavily bandaged, then slid him into the bed, leaving him there and taking themselves and the stretcher out of the cell and left Brock inside to sleep off the sedation he no doubt was under. That injury looked bad and even with the serum Brock confided he had, Jack doubted he’d be back to normal.

They walked past him, barely giving him a glance as they went on their way. 

“Oh Brock. What did you do? What did you do?”

~*~*~*~*~

Roskoff sat by himself in a chrome and plastic room with a sturdy metal and plastic table and matching chair. A decent mug of coffee sat at his elbow, but he hadn’t touched it yet. He was still hopped up on adrenaline and didn’t want to vibrate off the chair with the extra stimulant. So he waited. 

He was waiting for Rogers and Romanova to come back and tell him whether they accepted his offer or not. He also knew that Rogers wanted to desperately ask him if he was his long lost friend. Roskoff himself wasn’t sure. But with the flashes of memory he had been getting ever since Rumlow had refused to torture him and wipe him. 

He hadn’t always been successful, but Roskoff appreciated Rumlow’s efforts. Roskoff wasn’t sure why Rumlow had done it, but he was grateful. It had given him enough time to get more control and buck the programming and begin his mission. 

One that had just come to end, if the way that Rogers and Romanova had rushed out of the room along with the blonde viking told him anything. 

He stood up and did a perimeter walk of the room. Standard interrogation location. Just nicer amenities. Normally he would have pulled out the bugs and shot out the cameras, but he had nothing to hide this time around. They had nothing on him and besides, he could always shoot his way out.

It wasn't for nothing that he had swiped all of that data. He could also find back up and the child if he played his cards right.

So he walked and had just sat down again when Rogers and Romanova appeared along with a tall, dark skinned man he had only seen pictures of. Commander Fury.

"It seems, Roskoff, we are in a position to help each other out. All of the intelligence you gave us is legitimate. Arrests have been made. We are willing to fulfil your requests."

Roskoff raised an eyebrow. That...That hadn’t been quite what he had been expecting. Could it be that easy?

“All of them? Even giving clemency to Rumlow?” Roskoff asked.

A look was exchanged between all of them before Rogers pushed a DNA sample kit towards him.

“Yes. As long as you humour us in this last request. A sample of DNA. We have to know if you are Sergeant Barnes or not.” Rogers explained, his eyes shining brightly with so much fragile hope that Roskoff couldn’t find it in himself to refuse. Besides, he was curious too. All he remembered of his origins was waking up and seeing the metal of his left arm and knowing it wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He could find out while meeting their demands at the same time.

Roskoff looked at it for a moment before shrugging and picking it up.

“It’s a win-win situation. Why not?”

~*~*~*~*~*

“I have to admit that this wasn’t how I thought we’d be reunited, Brock.” Jack murmured, laying his head on Brock’s uninjured shoulder as they lay in the nest that had grown larger now that Brock had come back. He had found himself unable to give him up and had, to his chagrin, become needy. As had Marshall.

The doctors had taken pity on them (Although Marshall muttered that the databases that Brock had given SHIELD access to had given them hadn’t hurt) and let them stay together. Their freedom was still a nebulous situation at best and as much as he had longed to have his own place and be back on duty, he was all too aware that there would be worse outcomes for them. So he remained patient, and waited for the time it would happen.

Something that according to Marshall, would be sooner, rather than later.

“We might always be tied to the compound, but they won’t keep us locked up forever. At least that’s what Bucky said, and he  _ would _ know, being Rogers’ friend and all that.” Marshall explained as he had put Winnie down in her bassinet and crawled into the nest and curled up behind Jack, making him be between him and Brock.

Jack and Brock had only shrugged at the information. Of course Marshall would know. He had, after all, given birth to Bucky’s daughter. That gave Marshall an insider’s look into the dealings between SHIELD and Roskoff, or rather, Sergeant Barnes. The DNA test had verified it all and SHIELD was clearly keen on using his expertise and information to put out the infiltrators and the remnants of HYDRA. 

It was a huge project, one that Brock was glad was underway. Especially after Pierce and his cronies had been pushed out. Brock’s intel and other clues had provided the rest, so despite their earlier leanings, had given them amnesty of a sort. 

“Me neither, Jack. But it’s better than being in the Raft. Would hate for the kid to be born in jail. Especially there.” Brock’s voice cut through his musings at how things had turned out, making Jack smile. 

“True. Better to be here in the clinic type with you, than there and alone. At least we can have this. Even if it’s for a little while.” Jack replied, scooting up to kiss Brock. It was a light, soft kiss, but Brock seemed to like it, if the smile was anything to go by. 

Brock wrapped his arm around him, bringing him as close as he could with how big Jack had gotten. He wished they could do more than just cuddle and kiss, but there would be time enough for that. Once he healed and their kid was born, they could make up for lost time.

But for now, a cuddle and a kiss would have to do. He nuzzled Jack, making the other man give those soft purring sounds that had weirded him out at first, but now had grown on him. He wouldn’t admit it, but when both he and Marshall purred, Brock would get the best sleep ever. 

Speaking of…

“When’s Marshall and the sprog supposed to be back?” Brock mumbled, burying his nose in Jack’s hairline and inhaling the sweet scent of his coconut and argan shampoo. A scent that did things to him, forcing him to shift a bit. 

“In an hour. Barnes took them out somewhere. Why do you ask? Do you have something planned in mind?” Jack asked as he idly traced circles on Brock’s stomach. 

“Other than lying here with you, no. And that is a relief. To not play the sides any longer. And just be here. With you both.”

Jack hummed a reply and kissed him again. He lazily returned the kiss as they lay there, finally at peace and out of HYDRA’s control.

It wasn’t quite the mountain getaway he had hoped for those months ago when he had turned triple agent, but for now, it was good enough.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! Thanks for everyone that stuck with it through the weird twists and turns that this story took place. I admit that it was a soft epilogue and softer world type of a story in which people gain their conscience and get appeals to their better natures which they follow.   
> I didn't have the heart to make this grimmer and darker. It's too bleak out there as it is, so this is the end result. Cheers!


End file.
